


reaching back

by aunt_zelda



Category: Sins of the Cities Series - K. J. Charles
Genre: Blood Magic, Eldritch, Established Relationship, Frottage, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, Magic, Misgendering, Near Death Experiences, Recovery, Rituals, Shame, Survivor Guilt, Threats, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:26:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25394584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aunt_zelda/pseuds/aunt_zelda
Summary: Bast leaned in. “We both know there’s … more to the world than science or psychics go on about.”Nathaniel scrutinized his face, but found no indication of humor or the feverish devotion he’d seen on séance attendees.“We promised not to speak of that.” Justin’s voice had gone flat.“Unless it happened again.” Bast held the cup of tea close. “It’s happening again."
Relationships: Justin Lazarus/Nathaniel Roy
Comments: 4
Kudos: 6
Collections: Multifandom Horror Exchange (2020)





	reaching back

**Author's Note:**

  * For [afterism](https://archiveofourown.org/users/afterism/gifts).



> I was so excited to to get assigned your prompt! I love this book and getting to put the characters through some new challenges was exciting. Your letter was great, I hope I hit some things you listed to your liking. 
> 
> See end of fic for prompt-specific, spoilery tags. 
> 
> Thank you to kdheart for being my beta!
> 
> Note: the misgendering tag is one word, quickly corrected.

Justin leaned against the séance table. It still stood, despite having had chairs smashed against it. Of all the various items he’d sold, gifted, or outright destroyed in the past fortnight, the table had remained. Perhaps it was sentimentality. Perhaps it was because removing it would symbolize his transition into a new life, and for all his boasting that was frightening. Perhaps it was because it was damnably heavy. 

Nathaniel had theories on the matter, but he kept them to himself.

“That second visit, I imagined having you there.” Nathaniel said, glancing from the furniture to Justin’s tense shoulders. 

“I remember.” Justin smiled, shifting his weight from foot to foot suggestively. “I could tell. You’re easy to read when you’re in a state of passion.”

Nathaniel had no doubt. “And what can you read on my face now?” he took a deliberate step forward.

Justin licked his lips. “A book that’s been banned in a dozen countries for obscenity.”

Nathaniel pounced. There was no other word for it. He drove Justin back onto the table, hoisting his legs up and relishing the thump of Justin’s body on the wood. 

“I’ll have you now.” Nathaniel promised, eager to banish the gloomy, introspective look from Justin’s face, if only for a while. 

“Yes!” Justin gasped out, clutching at Nathaniel’s shirt. “Here, anywhere, all over this damn house …”

“Greedy,” Nathaniel smirked, reaching down to palm Justin’s erection through his trousers. “Insatiable. Are you a demon sent to torment me with lust?”

Justin barked a laugh. “Oh no, you’ve caught me.” He let himself fall back onto the table properly. “They sent me to corrupt you, bishop’s boy, but they had no idea of your capabilities for depravity.” He smiled, face flushed and eyes half-lidded with desire. 

Nathaniel rubbed himself against Justin, savoring the restraint of his clothing for a moment longer. “I have all night to prove them wrong. And, perhaps …” they hadn’t broached that subject before in games, and in truth Nathaniel often found it distasteful, but here and now, he ploughed onwards “… perhaps I’ll save your soul.”

Justin made a keening sound and pulled Nathaniel down for another kiss, desperate and with rather more teeth than usual. He pawed at Nathaniel’s waistcoat, and Nathaniel began to tug Justin’s shirt free.

Beneath them, the table creaked ominously.

Nathaniel faltered. “It might break –”

“Let it.” Justin’s voice was near a snarl. 

Nathaniel started to deal with their respective trousers. He doubted the table would dramatically break but he had no such doubt that it would be satisfying to try. 

There was a knock at the door. 

Both men froze. They knew full well the doors on the ground floor were locked. Anyone able to knock on the séance room door would have had to enter through illicit means. 

Nathaniel eased off of Justin carefully, turning to the door and righting his clothes hurriedly. 

“Oi, Lazlo? You in?”

“Christ,” Justin muttered, clambering off the table and hurrying past Nathaniel to the door. “Bast, is that really you?”

“The one and only.”

“You alone?” Justin hesitates at the handle.

“If I was here for a smash and grab, the door would already be down.”

Justin shot Nathaniel a warning look and opened the door. 

On the threshold stood a slender figure in a dark suit. They were pale, with the pinched look of someone often in search of their next meal, and had tawny hair curling around their ears. Nathaniel glanced at the scuffed shoes, mended jacket shoulders, and a distinctive rust-colored stain on one sleeve and concluded that this was not someone who worked an honest job.

“Bast! What’s it been, seven years?” Justin held out his hand. 

“Sounds about right.” Bast seized his hand and drew Justin in, thumping him on the back with their other hand. “Evening, Lazlo.” Their gaze flicked to Nathaniel, and then to Justin’s disheveled state. “Am I interrupting something?”

“No.” Nathaniel said hurriedly, at the same time that Justin said “Yes.”

Bast raised an eyebrow. 

“It’s all right, Nathaniel, Bast knows … how I am with men.”

“Can’t scandalize me that easily, guv,” Bast eyed Nathaniel up and down critically. “Not exactly what I’d pictured for your keeper, but well done.” 

“He’s not my keeper.” Justin protested. 

“Yeah right.” Bast snorted. “I’m happy for you, Lazlo. Found yourself a big, rich man to keep you safe.” 

Nathaniel wasn’t certain if he ought to be offended or flattered by the assertions. He decided to ignore it. “Why did you break into this house?”

“Because the doors were locked.”

Nathaniel blinked. “And that was reason to break in?”

“Well, yes.” Bast spoke slowly, as if to a young child at lessons. “I had to see my dear old friend Lazlo. Urgently. Locked doors are no deterrent to one such as myself.” They looked at Justin. “We need to talk. About what you owe me.”

Justin sighed heavily. “And this couldn’t wait until morning?”

“No, it bloody well could not. Get your cock wet some other time.” Bast glanced around the room. “You still got a girl around? I’d kill for a cuppa.” 

~*~

Nathaniel and Bast stared at each other at the kitchen table while Justin made tea. Close up and under brighter candles, Nathaniel studied Bast’s face more carefully. 

“Madam –” Nathaniel began, but the word had scarcely left his lips before Bast had drawn a knife. 

“Bast!” Justin started.

“Bless me, but this left ear ain’t been the same since I took a crack to the head last summer.” Bast smiled thinly. “I could have sworn I heard you mistake me for a woman. And that would be a mistake, _sir_ , you’d only make the once. Friend of Lazlo’s or not.” The knife vanished as fast as it had been drawn. 

Nathaniel released the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. 

“Figured you’d pick a smart cove,” Bast glanced at Justin fondly. “If he ever treats you poorly, I’ll sort him out.” 

“Appreciated, but unnecessary.” Justin said, fussing with the cups. 

“You need more friends, Lazlo.” Bast said. 

“Why are you calling him that?” Nathaniel asked, picking a safer conversation topic.

“’Cause it’s his name? Or it was.” Bast snorts. “Not calling him what the clients do.”

“It’s my name now, Bast, I’ve settled with it.” Justin sat down with the tea. “And I don’t have clients, not anymore.”

“Yeah, I heard about that.” Bast sipped the tea. “You still got it in you for one last job?”

“If you want me to shake someone down, I’m not –”

“No. Nothing like that.” Bast leaned in. “We both know there’s … more to the world than science or psychics go on about.” 

Nathaniel scrutinized his face, but found no indication of humor or the feverish devotion he’d seen on séance attendees. 

“We promised not to speak of that.” Justin’s voice had gone flat. 

“Unless it happened again.” Bast held the cup of tea close. “It’s happening again, Lazlo.”

Justin looked grim. “How bad?”

“Five. And that’s being hopeful. At least eleven have gone missing since last full moon, but some of them could be drunk, or hiding, or arrested under a different name.”

Justin looked pained. “I thought we’d sorted it.”

“So did I. Maybe what we did wears off after a time. Or maybe it’s new.” Bast spread his hands. “Some _thing_ is out there, Lazlo. And you’re the only man in London I’d trust to sort it out.”

“I’m sorry, but what exactly is going on?” Nathaniel asked. 

“None of your business.” Bast said, never taking his eyes off of Justin. 

“It is now.” Nathaniel laid a hand over Justin’s. 

“Nathaniel, you don’t want to get mixed up in this.” Justin said. “It’s not your world.”

Had Nathaniel been a younger man he might have said something like ‘you are my world.’ Instead he set his jaw firmly. “I dragged you into mine, it’s only fair you drag me into yours, isn’t it?”

Justin gave him a look between exasperation and fondness. It was very pleasant for Nathaniel to witness. 

Bast coughed none too delicately. 

“Where is it this time?” Justin asked. “The waterfront again?”

“Not sure.” Bast pulled a stained piece of paper from his jacket and laid it on the table. It was a crude map of sections of London. There were red dots marked on it. “This is where people have last been seen. Nowhere near the waterfront this time.”

They examined the map together in silence. 

“There’s a park there.” Nathaniel pointed at a corner of the sketch. “Well, not much of a park, but there are trees, bushes, plenty of cover for ruffians to hide in before accosting your people.” 

Bast and Justin eyed the spot. 

“He’s got a point, Bast. Are you sure this isn’t a gang sending a message?” Justin asked. 

“I’m certain. We’ve had no warnings, no demands, no bodies. They’re vanishing. It’s just like it was before.” Bast shuddered. “I prayed it wasn’t. And you know I don’t like to pray.”

Nathaniel cast a sympathetic look in Bast’s direction. 

Justin nodded. “The park’s as good a place to start as any. It was the waterfront last time. And we heard rumors of people vanishing in gardens. Maybe … maybe it’s connected to nature somehow?”

“Not much of that in London.” Bast said. 

“No. Perhaps that’s a good thing.” Justin pointed to the map. “If there were parks all over the city, maybe there’d be even more disappearances.” 

Bast made a noise of disgust. “I’ll walk you as far as the corner, then I need to get back to my … people.”

Nathaniel looked between Bast and Justin. “You’re going tonight? Now?”

“Yes.” Justin nodded. “This must be dealt with, quickly. If it’s that park, the sooner we know the better. And then we can formulate ways of dealing with it.” 

It was late, and while the fog wasn’t as strong as it had been, it was still damnably difficult to navigate. 

“You still haven’t told me what it is!” Nathaniel exclaimed. 

“We don’t rightly know.” Justin said as Bast stuffed the paper back into his jacket and downed the rest of his tea. “Several years ago there were disappearances of people by the waterfront. Bast and I were friends from the workhouse. We were frightened, and constables had no interest in investigating disappearances of the kinds of people who lurked in that area. So we … took matters into our own hands.” 

“We were scared shitless, but it worked.” Bast said, tugging a scarf around his face in preparation for heading out into the night. “It’ll work again. It has to.”

Nathaniel caught Justin’s eye. He looked less certain than Bast sounded. 

~*~

Nathaniel had never been down some of these streets before. He was conscious of eyes upon him, on his well-cut clothes and the click of his shoes on the cobblestones. It was a profoundly unpleasant and unfamiliar sensation. 

Justin’s posture and gait had begun to shift, the deeper into London they traversed. He walked with purpose, deliberate strides, and the roll of his shoulders suggested someone not to be trifled with in the dark. 

Bast paused beneath a lamppost. “Down there, turn right, and then left, and that’s the park.” He nodded. “I’m at Ginger’s old place, you remember it? Send a message there when you’ve found the spot, if you don’t want to come yourself.”

Justin reached over and clasped hands with Bast again. “I’ll do what I can.”

“That’s all I ask.” Bast nodded curtly to Nathaniel and melted into the fog. 

“What a charming man.” Nathaniel muttered. 

Justin nudged his side. “Bast did me a good turn. I owe him. This has been a long time coming.” 

Nathaniel wanted to know more, but knew prying would only make Justin clam up tight. “What exactly do you think we’ll find in this park?”

“I hope it’s a married man with a knife and a grudge against dollymops, but I doubt it.” Justin began walking towards the park. 

“What was it before?”

“Don’t rightly know.” Justin sighed heavily and paused beneath another lamp. “All I know for sure is, when the fog is thick like this? It’s best to avoid the waterfront. There’s some … power that pulls at a man.”

Nathaniel scoffed. Justin wasn’t laughing. 

“I don’t believe in spirits reaching out. I’ve been in that business long enough to see nothing but performance and illusionist tricks. But this? This is something else. Something very old. And I suppose it’s … hungry.” Justin shifted from foot to foot. 

Nathaniel swallowed the laugh that had been bubbling up in his throat. He’d been in fog so thick it felt tangible. He’d reached for a wall and had the uncomfortable sensation that someone was reaching back to him briefly. Or perhaps some _thing_ as Bast had said. 

“You know it. Maybe you’ve never put it to words, but you’ve felt it too.” Justin was staring right at him. “That’s what’s back. Taking people. People who won’t be missed by the high and mighty. Bast and I managed to put a stop to it back then, and I hope I’ll be able to put a stop to it now.”

“How did you do it before?” Nathaniel asked. 

“We … fed it.”

Nathaniel felt a chill that had nothing to do with the night air. 

“What –”

“Don’t ask me that, Nathaniel, please. Not here.” Justin cast a desperate look at him. Nathaniel was reminded of the worst of their earlier encounters, when Justin had seemed braced to be hurt and too proud to beg for mercy. “I’ll tell you, I will, but … not now.” 

Nathaniel laid a hand on Justin’s shoulder. “I’m here for you. I know what you were, and more importantly, who you are.”

Justin shifted and leaned in. “Sentimental bastard.”

“Your sentimental bastard, yes.”

They continued walking in silence. 

The park was dark, and Nathaniel was glad of the lantern he’d carried. He was still half certain of finding a criminal with a knife lurking around a tree, but there seemed to be no other people in the park at this hour. It was eerie, the way the thick trunks rose up out of the fog, branches twisting out like grasping limbs. He was used to the wilderness of his childhood home, but these trees looked unnatural in a way he couldn’t identify. Perhaps it was the city setting. 

“Nathaniel, I’ve found something.” Justin said hoarsely. 

Nathaniel came closer, bringing the light in. 

It was a body, twined in the roots of a tree. From the tree’s growth, Nathaniel knew it must have been there for some time. But the body was fresh, not even decayed yet. He could see a hand reaching out of the earth, a ring still on the left hand. 

“Look.” Justin pointed a distance away. There was a woman’s shoe sticking out of the ground, still attached to a foot. 

“How … how is this possible?” Nathaniel asked. 

“It’s feeding.” Justin sounded ill. “Blood. Life. That’s what it takes. That’s why it takes them.”

The roots visibly pulsed. 

Both of them staggered backwards. Nathaniel nearly dropped the lantern. 

“What do we do?” Nathaniel gasped. 

“We leave.” Justin said. “Slowly. And don’t touch any of the trees.”

As they carefully walked out of the park, Nathaniel’s ears strained to hear anything. There were no screams, no groans of pain. But there were strange organic sounds, crackling and shifting. The trees? Were they growing so fast? 

“A girl, years back, said she saw something dragging her friend down below the water. Something like vines. Nobody believed her of course, said she was drunk or using opium.” Justin’s voice was faint. 

“And now trees.” Nathaniel still couldn’t quite believe what he’d witnessed. But he’s seen it. He’d never doubted his sight before. 

“That’s what it needs. Blood. Life, I suppose.” Justin leaned against a nearby wall for a moment, taking deep breaths. 

Nathaniel felt his stomach churn. 

“Let’s get back home. We can talk there.” Justin shuddered, taking Nathaniel’s hand and guiding him through the fog. 

~*~

Inside, tea and brandy helped steady their respective nerves somewhat. 

“You said you stopped it before. How did you know what to do?” Nathaniel asked after the silence became heavy. 

“We were desperate with the disappearances. Some of them were … not friends, exactly, but people we knew well. And suddenly they were gone. Not to jail, not to drink, just gone.” Justin set aside his empty glass. “I found an old book and it had rituals, stories, myths, about how to deal with these sorts of situations. Half of it was pure nonsense, but something was promising. It told us how to … feed it, make it stop.”

“What did you feed it, before?” Nathaniel asked. 

Justin stared at the wall. “Bast had a … I suppose you’d say a ‘keeper,’ that’s the kindest thing you could. A pimp, more like. He liked to drink, this pimp. Drank with my old master. And they trusted us, see, to make their drinks.” Justin waved his hand. “One of the older girls had given something to Bast, to help dull the pain. We mixed that into their drinks. They were both out like lights before the hour was through.”

Nathaniel was barely breathing. 

“My master had a ring, from his mother. I took it off him. Wouldn’t have fetched more than a few guineas from a pawn shop but it meant the world to him. Bast’s pimp had a watch, first he’d stolen or so he claimed. Bast took that. Then Bast took his knife and whetted the watch with a bit of his pimp’s blood. Just a scratch on the knuckles. I looked at my master and I … I couldn’t. Christ, the things he’d done to me, I ought to have … I should have …” Justin was shaking. “I couldn’t even prick him. Bast had to do it for me. Then we went to the waterfront and tossed the ring and the watch into the water and ran, fast as we could, back to our homes. The fog lifted. Nobody came back, but nobody else went missing.” 

Nathaniel had been expecting worse, with Bast’s knife and Justin’s emotional state. He reached over and grasped Justin’s hand.

Justin held him tightly, with the desperation of a drowning man. “I haven’t told anyone else about that night. I … I came so close, Nathaniel. So close. I’d have saved myself so much pain, if I’d only …” his eyes were wet. 

“Or you might have caused yourself greater anguish. What if you’d been spotted? Jailed, hanged, for doing away with him?” Nathaniel murmured. 

“He deserved it.” Justin’s voice was a hiss of pain. “He deserved worse.”

“I have no doubt. But at the expense of your own freedom, your own life?” Nathaniel shook his head. “You deserved to survive him. Live a better life than he ever could.”

Justin crumpled, tears falling freely now. Nathaniel held him. 

After a time, Justin pulled back, wiping at his eyes. “We have to, we have to feed it again.”

“Did you have something in mind?” Nathaniel asked. “Do the objects have to be metal?”

“No. Just, significant.” Justin frowned in thought. Suddenly his eyes widened. “The table. The damn table.”

Nathaniel’s gaze drifted to the direction of the séance room. “Will that work?”

“It’s bigger than a ring, and worth a dozen first-stolen watches. I held my first séance there. So did my old master. There’s years of emotions sunk into that wood. Grief and desperation and love and fear …” Justin nodded. “It’ll work. I’ll bleed on it and we’ll have done with this mess.” 

Nathaniel felt queasy at the idea of Justin shedding blood for some pagan ritual, but if he’d done it before, surely he could do it again? He’d have to trust that here Justin’s expertise would ensure their safety. 

~*~

Nathaniel slept poorly that night. His dreams were full of trees that grew before his eyes, corpses of friends and family, and hooded cultists binding him to the séance table. A knife plunged towards his chest … and Nathaniel woke with a start. 

The day was spent in preparation. Justin sent a runner to Bast to ensure the park was avoided by all. Nathaniel hired a cart to help bring the table across the city, and paid for no prying questions about why this was being done. Justin fussed over almanacs and charts from some of his former professional acquaintances, finding the time of moonrise that night. 

So it was that late that night, Justin and Nathaniel hauled the heavy table into the deserted park in near darkness. They stumbled through the fog. It was nearly too heavy for the pair of them alone, but they managed, setting the thing down in a copse of trees. 

“Now the second offering.” Justin drew out a knife from his jacket. 

Nathaniel would swear he heard the trees creaking and shifting closer. 

There were no words, no chanting, no songs in old tongues. Just cut along the crook of his arm and dripped blood along the table’s length. Then he pressed a cloth over the wound and began to walk out of the park, reaching for Nathaniel. 

Nathaniel stumbled on a root, falling to the ground. 

Justin seized him and hauled him away. 

They both saw the root shift and grasp for Nathaniel’s leg. 

“Run!” Justin gasped out. 

They ran, frantic, until they’d reached the street and turned a corner. 

~*~

Bast sent word in a week that there’d been no more disappearances. The trees in the park seemed smaller, more docile, than they had been before. Nathaniel felt a twinge of fear when fog rolled in, staying close to the fire on nights when the air felt heavy. 

Justin and Nathaniel enjoyed each other thoroughly in every room of the house, but never again on a table.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt specific tags:  
> Folk Horror, Gothic Horror, Paranormal Horror


End file.
